


[In Which There Are More Important Issues]

by Exal



Series: 12 Conversations About One Thing [5]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: A story about a rape that's essentially about the rich white woman who was mildly affected by it, Courtroom Drama, Drabble, F/M, Gen, Guilty Person Goes Free, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Oops, Post-Canon, Pregnancy, Talking, miscarriage of justice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:27:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29753364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exal/pseuds/Exal
Summary: “Are we ever going to talk about naming the baby?  He's due any day now.”  Postwar, post-marriage, after everything has settled down, this is how Kellam and Maribelle decide how to name their imminent child.
Relationships: Callum | Kellam/Maribelle
Series: 12 Conversations About One Thing [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2133747
Kudos: 3





	[In Which There Are More Important Issues]

**Author's Note:**

> So, in case you skipped the tags and went straight into the thrilling author's note...This story concerns a sexual assault. It is not depicted, and no canon character is the rapist or victim, but it is described. It is not described in detail, but certainly described enough. Furthermore, the rapist escapes justice due to the legal system. If this will put you in any danger of emotional trauma or breakdown, do not read this chapter. Seriously, just go on to the next one. I posted it concurrently it just for you!

###  **Conversation 5 [In which there are more important issues]**

The air in the courtroom would not have been more electric if someone had just cast Arcthunder at the defendant. The defendant, in fact, may have preferred such an assault, as he was looking up into the eyes of Her Honor Judge Maribelle of Themis. She was not happy.

“This court finds you guilty of the charge against you,” said Maribelle, “you will be dishonorably discharged from the army and are sentenced to a prison term no less—”

“No!” screamed the accused—the now-felon—and he took off, running for a side door. As one, the crowd in audience gasped...and then, as one, winced as the would-be runaway slammed into the court bailiff, a man in thick armor standing in front of the door. He hit the baliff's breastplate face-first with a teeth-rattling “CLANG.”

The guilty party fell to the floor, dazed and bleeding. “...No less than four years and no more than five,” Maribelle finished. “Thank you, bailiff,” she added, nodding to Kellam. Kellam smiled back at her.

“Court dismissed,” shouted Maribelle, pounding her gavel for good measure. Soldiers dragged the still-dazed defendant away, and the counsel packed up their things. Kellam, meanwhile, moved to the bench and assisted his wife down from her seat. Maribelle swayed as she stepped down, her heavily gravid stomach clear even through her judicial robes.

* * *

A lamp blazed on the bedside table; Maribelle was in her nightgown, Kellam in his intricate pajamas. They never did get around to making him a minor lord, yet, now he was the one in finery, and she in simple cloth. Maribelle's tender pregnant body refused to let her get any sleep in anything more elaborate.

Maribelle recognized the look on Kellam's face. It was the same one he had worn before he asked her to marry him. However, as the proper wife should, she let him speak first.

“Maribelle?” Kellam asked.

“Yes, darling?” Maribelle returned, with a smile.

“Are we ever going to talk about naming the baby? I mean, he's due any day now.” 

Maribelle's smile vanished. She had known that they'd have to have this conversation; she had already had a false labor. Still, this was going to be difficult.

“I mean, we can just name him Brady, if that's okay...” Kellam was still talking. “That's what I was thinking.”

“Dear...Kellam...” Maribelle breathed. “I have something to show you.” Maribelle walked into her large, lavish closet, moved a few dresses, and found a lockbox. She exited her closet and placed the lockbox onto the canopy bed, opening it. It was full of papers, all yellowed with age and with the seal of Ylisse on them. 

“These are the transcripts from one of my court cases,” said Maribelle. She sighed deeply. “Not that I need them...I remember the case perfectly.”

Kellam studied the transcript. “August of...” he muttered. “This is...just after you became a judge, isn't it?”

Maribelle nodded, sitting down. “This wasn't long after I was appointed judge, just after my second case, in fact.” She took a breath. “An old acquaintance of mine, Commander Sarai, approached me, asking me to hear a specific case. I asked her why she approached me, when there were so many other military judges far more experienced, and she said...she said that it had to be me. I had no idea why.

“I told her I'd attempt to get appointed to the case, but warned her that I didn't have much pull.” Even having worked as an advocate for several years before becoming a judge, it had been difficult for Maribelle to influence her fellows and superiors—there too much old blood. “I spoke to Archmagistrate Hanoch, Naga rest his soul, the following week, and he not only knew of the case, but seemed relieved that I'd take it. 'It shouldn't take you long,' he said.”

“The case was...” said Kellam, rifling through the pages.

“The Halidom versus the son of the Duke of Marsellus. I'd met both Duke Marsellus and his son numerous times, and had found them the zenith of politeness and poise.” Maribelle chuckled once, mirthlessly. “I didn't think the boy was capable of any wrongdoing. He had a wife and newborn child, for goodness's sake.

“I knew something was wrong the instant I called the court to order. Marsellus was behind the defendant's bench, with his advocate—two, actually. Behind the prosecution’s bench was a small young woman in secondhand clothes and Commander Sarai. No one else.

“I inquired as to where their counsel was, and Sarai answered me by saying 'No advocate would take Ketu'rah's case, your honor. I am representing her as her attorney.'

“I was taken aback. While completely legal, what Sarai was describing was highly unorthodox. And I couldn't imagine a case no advocate would take, excepting a hopeless one. I was about to ask Sarai for more information when Marcellus's lawyer, a man I later learned was a true shark from Valm named Zan, cleared his throat. 'May we continue?' he asked. He was correct—I was delaying the trial. I called for opening statements.”

Maribelle paused. For the first time, she wasn't sure she could continue. Kellam, bless his heart, noticed her hesitation. He found the page containing the opening statements and began to read, out loud.

“Sarai:” read Kellam, “'The prosecution intends to prove that, on July 26th of two years ago, in the women's barracks of the Ylisstol training grounds, Bradford Marcellus did forcefully sexually assault Miss Ketu'rah of Swaincamp without her consent. Marcellus committed this criminal act willfully and with malice aforethought. The prosecution shall prove that this crime was committed, causing physical harm to Ketu'rah as well as emotional and mental harm that continues to this day, and that Master Marcellus deserves to be, must be, punished to the fullest extent to the law. Thank you.'” Kellam paused. Maribelle could see the conflict in his face. “Where's Swaincamp?” Kellam asked.

Maribelle smiled softly. “It is a tiny village in the south of the dukedom of Ferine.” She shook her head. “Thank you, dear Kellam. I can speak for myself from here.

“Attorney Zan began speaking before Sarai had returned to her seat.” continued Maribelle. “'The defense moves for immediate dismissal,' he said.”

“It is a sign of how unforgivably green as a justice I was that his request took me aback. I asked him why he made his request.

“'Your honor, the prosecution is attempting to put forth a case without merit—the mere fact that no lawyer is sitting at the table should show that much. The charge against my client is unfounded, unprovable, and, moreover, is a heinous charge brought against a modern bastion of decency: a faithful man of Ylisse, a husband and father, and the grandson of a late councilman! My client committing the act he is accused of is impossible. There is no reason to let this case continue at all, and every reason to find the prosecution in contempt. However, I can only move for dismissal. Your honor.'”

“'All are promised their day in court,' I responded. 'The case continues. Your opening statement, councilor?'”

Maribelle smiled grimly. “'I believe I've just given it, Your Honor,' Zan said. He returned to his seat.”

“Wow,” commented Kellam. Maribelle understood; Zan had been a talented and nearly sinister lawyer.

“Well,” Maribelle breathed, unable to pick what to say next.

Again, Kellam came to her rescue. Kellam lifted another page and said, “It looks like the first witness was...Ketu'rah herself.”

“Yes,” said Maribelle, “you can read her testimony if you prefer, but such brutal tales are not meant for noble eyes. In summary, Ketu'rah noticed Marcellus paying special attention to her during early morning training exercises. While the girl didn't dislike this—Marcellus was and is a handsome man—she thought it odd. Late that night, Marcellus sneaked into her darkened barracks and forced himself on her. He held her wrists down and told her several times to 'lie back and enjoy it.' After ten minutes or so, Marcellus left, commenting behind him 'Thanks for the fuck.'”

Kellam looked nauseous. “That's awful!” he said. “No real man would do anything like that, in my estimation.”

Maribelle loved her husband. “Zan cross-examined her mercilessly,” she continued, “First, he called the entire story's veracity into question, then he accused Ketu'rah of lying and claimed that the whole situation must have been a consensual act, at one point stating that she must have enjoyed it. A farm girl getting attention from a nobleman.

“Ketu'rah stood strong against it all, never backing down against Zan's accusations, insisting she was taken against her will, and keeping to her story exactly. I have rarely seen such strength on the stand or even the battlefield. Finally, Zan demanded to know why Ketu'rah had waited so long to file charges.

“Ketu'rah replied that only recently had she been given the advisement and power to bring her case to court—by Commander Sarai.”

Kellam nodded. After a moment, he leafed through the records, then paged back through the papers he had already read. “Wait, who else testified for the prosecution?”

“No one else was willing to testify it happened,” responded Maribelle, “Only Ketu'rah.”

“What? In a full barracks? Nobody else saw or even heard what happened?”

Maribelle had asked a very similar question during the trial. Now, she gave the same answer Sarai had given her years ago. “I did not say no one else witnessed it,” she said, “I said no one else was willing to testify.”

Kellam blinked, then just said, “...Oh.”

Maribelle nodded. “Indeed.”

“The defense's arguments took hours, but to me it now all seems to go by in a blur. First, Zan brought to the stand one of Marcellus's fellow soldiers, a man named Coolidge, who claimed to have been with Marcellus in the barracks all night, never mind Zan's earlier cross-examination. Sarai, amazingly, had a response to this. She presented a record from General Stahl himself from the night in question giving Coolidge four demerits for being found off of the training grounds that night—alone.

“Next, the defense called in Ketu'rah's old superior, Commander Zedd. Zedd testified that Marcellus had been in bed at lights-out. He also said that he witnessed no inequity that night or any night, and that no recruit had brought anything like Ketu'rah's story to his attention.

“There was no way in heaven Sarai could have Commander Zedd alter his story—in all likelihood it was completely true. However, amazingly for a laywoman with zero legal experience, her cross-examination got Zedd to admit that as a recruit, he had heard stories from the other recruits of sneaking out after dark for romantic trysts with female recruits. Zedd was finally forced to admit, through clenched teeth, that the scenario the prosecution presented was not impossible.”

Maribelle coughed then, and grabbed a jug of water on the floor, taking a rushed, but still dainty, gulp.

“We can finish this tomorrow if you want,” said Kellam.

“I am fine, darling,” said Maribelle, placing the jug down. “I am almost finished, in any case.”

Maribelle took a stray lock of her hair in one hand and twisted it between her fingers. “Finally, Marcellus himself took the stand. If ever you meet the man—perhaps when he becomes Duke of Marcellus—know that he has not changed much since then. He is an alabaster statue. He has always had an element of dashing handsomeness to him, from his windswept white hair to his impeccable taste in clothes. I recall seeing a charming dimple appear on his cheek when he was placed under oath.”

Maribelle shook her head and reached across the bed. “I simply must get this right.” She scanned her paper and nodded. “Here we are. Zan asked Marcellus about his actions on the night in question and Marcellus's response was...

“'It had been a hard day, so I fell asleep right away. I didn't wake up until reveille.'”

“'No further questions,' Zan said. 

“Testimony like that was tricky, back when I was an advocate,” Maribelle said, rubbing one eye. She was more tired than she thought. “It is not an alibi, so to speak, so there always lies the possibility that the defendant did commit the crime. However, in Ylisse's system, where the burden of proof lies on the prosecution, a simple statement can be the strongest one. One cannot really disprove someone was in bed all night without a witness, after all. However, a terse testimony can mean that the defendant is hiding something, and a skilled lawyer can easily find a way for the defendant to admit to something they did not intend.

“Sarai, however, was not a skilled lawyer. She asked all the right questions to begin with—how he remembered the day in question, if he knew Ketu'rah at the time, and so on. Marcellus had a response ready for every question, and each was as short and as terse as his initial testimony. His answers even lined up with Ketu'rah's story, for the most part. Eventually, Sarai realized she wasn't going to catch Marcellus in a lie, and when one can't disprove a defendant's alibi, one must convince the court that the defendant is the kind of person who would commit the crime.

“Never mind that Sarai was most certainly not a lawyer, and never mind that Zan was there to raise an objection every time Sarai's questions started to imply anything strongly. Marcellus was a golden boy, a brilliant student and competent soldier, a husband and father, and, forgoing anything catastrophic, a future duke. Sarai may as well have attempted character assassination on Exalt Chrom himself.

“Finally, Sarai, at the end of her rope, asked, 'What kind of man are you, Sir Marcellus?'”

“Zan yelled, 'Objection! Ambiguous and irrelevant!' but before I could respond, Marcellus said, 'No, wait, I want to answer this.'”

“'Ma'am,' Marcellus said, 'I am a simple man, but I am one of culture, etiquette, and class. I address both you, Commander Sarai, and the court when I say that I would never commit the act I am accused of...' And here, I remember a amused smile on his face as he said, 'and I'd certainly never say anything as vulgar as _Thanks for the fuck_.'”

“There was a scream from the defendant's table. Ketu'rah was gripping the table in sudden terror, murmuring 'no' underneath her breath, tears falling down her face. Sarai attempted to calm her down, but Ketu'rah seemed beyond comfort, sobbing in loud, painful gasps. I had no choice but to call for recess.”

Maribelle took a deep breath. “Ketu'rah didn't return to the courtroom. It is her outburst that, now, convinces me more than anything that Ketu'rah was telling the truth. Hearing Marcellus speak those words again must have been too much for her.”

Maribelle's next words came without a pause. “And so it is my greatest failure as a judge and a woman that I found Marcellus not guilty.”

“Maribelle...” gasped Kellam.

“I could say it was the lack of evidence,” said Maribelle, staring at the floor, “I could say it was my old class prejudices influencing me. I could even say that no mere flight commander could ever win against a true lawyer like Zan.

“But, more than anything... Marcellus and Themis were old allies. My father was, still is, friends with the duke. And I just couldn't believe we could befriend the father of a criminal.

“I was so blind. Now, I have seen more nobles than I care to count attempt to use their position or connections to avoid the arm of the law. Lady Meike, a family friend I once considered an aunt, petitioned me to acquit her daughter of atrocious war crimes simply because we were close. It is so clear to me now that Marcellus deserved to be punished, but still, I...” Maribelle trailed off.

She shook her head, then said, “Ketu'rah wasn't present for my verdict. The trial ended, Commander Sarai...thanked me for my time. Everyone left, and life went on.”

“What happened to Ketu'rah?” asked Kellam.

“Sarai resigned from the army that night,” said Maribelle. “She and Ketu'rah moved to Swaincamp. When first I realized my mistake, I sent them some gold, intending to make it a regular payment, but...they returned it.”

Maribelle hesitated, then began gathering the records back into the lockbox. “You're wondering what this all has to do with Brady.”

Kellam shook his head. “It said it right there. Marcellus's first name is Bradford.”

Maribelle started, then nodded. “Yes. Brady to his friends.”

“Does—” Kellam started, “Do you ever think about this around Brady?”

“Rarely, thank the Gods. But every so often...” Maribelle felt a weight on her heart, but continued, “every so often I will say his name, or look at him just the wrong way, and I'll remember Marcellus, and it will sicken me. Once, Brady called me 'Your Honor' and I nearly burst into tears. The poor child didn't even know what was wrong.”

Maribelle turned determinedly towards Kellam, resolve replacing her sorrow. “I refuse to look at my child or say his name and think of that terrible man. I will not relate my son to my worst mistake.”

“Wow,” said Kellam, and the pair sat in tense silence. Maribelle couldn't even bare to continue putting the papers away. At length, at painful length, Kellam spoke again. “I think I have something to confess to you too.”

“What?” Maribelle asked, nearly shocked. “Surely nothing as bad as--”

“I've killed people, Maribelle,” said Kellam, deadly serious. “Sure, it was in war, sure it was legal and all, and sure it might have been even them or me, but that don't make killing people right. Mama didn't want one of her children responsible for anyone's death.”

“Kellam...” Maribelle gasped. She knew some soldiers were consumed with guilt after war, but she had never thought that her own husband...

“I felt so bad about it, eventually, I...confessed to Brady about it.”

“Confessed?”

“He's a priest, right? I thought he might have been able to give me, I don't know, forgiveness or absolution or something. I've done wrong by everyone I ever fought, and I wanted him to say it was okay.”

Kellam paused and chewed his bottom lip. “He said that he couldn't give me forgiveness for my wrongs, that he didn't think anyone could, 'cepting for Naga Herself. 'I've done wrong by loads'a people,' he said, 'and I ain't never gonna be able to do right by them, ever.'

“'You 'n' me, old man? We've hurt people, killed 'em, even. We just gotta help everyone else as much as we can. And then we hope, that when we die and see Naga again, we've done more good then all that harm we did. We ain't nothin' but what we do, right?'”

“He said all that?” Maribelle asked.

“I may have taken out some of the...rougher language.” Kellam smiled, and Maribelle smiled back. “I think it's good you still remember Ketu'rah, even if you can never make it up to her. I can never make it up to the people I killed. We need to atone for the cruelties we've committed the best we can, even if it's just remembering it and vowing not to do it again.

“I mean, I want you to feel better,” said Kellam, almost guiltily, “but you weren't the one wronged here—Ketu'rah was. Doing the right thing, even indirectly—I think that's how you make up for doing the wrong thing.

“Look, I dunno, I may just be babbling,” said Kellam. “Good people do bad things, once in a while. Sometimes it's cause our country needs us to, sometimes it's because a awful man tricks us.”

“I suppose,” Maribelle breathed, “all we can do is ask Naga to forgive us for our failures, and forgive those who wrong us in turn.”

“You're sounding like Brady, there, Mari.” Kellam chuckled. “We raised a heck of a kid.”

Maribelle murmured in agreement, and put a hand on her stomach. “I still do not know if I can give him that monster's name.”

“Hey,” said Kellam, “we can give him any name we darn well please. Heck, my ma came up with names for six boys, we can come up with _one_. But, I mean, reminding yourself of all the reasons you got to be kind to people isn't the worst thing in the world.

“And, y'know, this may be nothin' related, but my youngest brother married a woman named Ketu'rah a month or so back. If it isn't her, maybe she's okay now. But if it is? Maybe we can try making it up to her a little more directly.” He scratched his head, looking very much like the country boy Maribelle met him as. “Hope so, anyway.”

There was so much Maribelle was unsure about. But she felt her confidence renewing; she felt more certain than ever her husband would always be there to help her. Maribelle quietly embraced her husband, and he, while clearly surprised, returned the hug.


End file.
